Perpetual Motion
by Unit 37
Summary: Thirty years have passed since the return of Ganon. He has conquered Hylium and rules the land with creatures of darkness. But in spite of the overwhelming evil, the displaced Princess Zelda works to resurrect the Hero of Time and combat the King of Evil.
1. 1

**A note: all comments and critiques are appreciated. I see that there are several hits on this story, but no reviews. Even the smallest of comments help the story to improve.**

Zelda Irashda paced the length of a dungeon illuminated only by the glow of the occasional dying torch. She let her eyes flicker occasionally to her shadow of a prisoner.

Chains bound it to the wall—an unnecessary precaution. It lay comatose, its solid red eyes staring ever forward into oblivion. Its body was a dark replica of someone normal, its flesh nothing but black. And though it did not breathe in the human sense of the word, it was very much alive.

Zelda fiddled momentarily with her bundled up hair before withdrawing a golden pocket-watch from her work apron to confirm that it was indeed the fourth hour of the morning. The sun would no doubt be slipping above the horizon any second, as was the cycle in warmer months.

Some would have called her observations fruitless. It was the same each night. She would pace, the shadow would stare off into oblivion, and then she would leave.

She smiled to herself.

Of course, lesser minds wouldn't comprehend what it was she aimed to accomplish. They wouldn't understand the scope. Lesser minds would think only of their lifetime and the few things that could be accomplished in so few years. They had long given up hope for the return of the boy in green.

She had not.

She would bring him back.

Zelda withdrew again her pocket-watch. Her time was up.

She left her prisoner in chains. If it had not been able to escape for a month, she doubted it would be able to do so for another day. So she quietly slipped away, pulling away her apron to reveal a far more practical set of trousers. Her brown hair slipped from its knot, falling back into place at the base of her neck.

Following a long echoing ascension of an archaic flight of stairs, Zelda was greeted by the glow of a flickering candle. The candle was held by a gangly young girl with a bright head of long green hair—Zelda's erstwhile assistant—and was meant to light the dungeon's long stretches of shadowy stonework. "We are safe, Mistress Zelda," the girl said, following Zelda as she walked towards a reinforced wooden chest shoved against the far wall of the rectangular room, its lid dampened by a crack in the upper wall that allowed for a thin stream of rain water to run inside.

"Good," Zelda said she undid the locks keeping the container closed and lifted open the lid. "No one else can know about this—especially Shad." She glanced at her assistant. "Can I trust you with that, Saria?"

Saria nodded, her short green hair glowing in the candlelight.

"Good." Zelda withdrew a large leather canteen from her traveling case before closing it with the heel of her foot. "Then we celebrate."

The candle's flame rippled. "…Celebrate, Mistress Zelda?"

"Yes!" Zelda flipped open the canteen and took swallowed a mouthful of the bitter wine it contained. "Today we celebrate the rebirth of history!" Zelda hesitated before handing the canteen to Saria. "How old are you, Saria?"

Saria did not take the offered drink. "Nearly fifteen, Mistress Zelda."

"Right. Far too smart to take to the bottle." Zelda took a second drink before pouring the remaining contents on the dungeon floor. "We'd best be leaving. Linus is willing to make the journey, but I have no doubt that he would sell us out, given the right incentive. There's someone I need compare notes with in Catalia."

"…Catalia, Mistress Zelda?"

"Yes, Saria, Catalia." Zelda went back to the chest and again rummaged through it, extracting several crumpled scraps of parchment and one particularly thick book of notes. "Unless you are unwilling, in which case I'm sure our guest will be glad for the company."

Saria's gaze turned crestfallen, lines of premature aging in her face highlighted by the candle light. "…I will be… fine, Mistress Zelda."

"Good. Now, hand me one of those torches."

Saria did so, pulling the one closest to her off the wall to be given to Zelda.

The chest still open, Zelda let the torch drop onto all that remained inside—unnecessary connections to life before Ganon's Legion. She watched as dozens crumpled papers—years of research—went up in smoke. It was a small flame, barely more than a smolder when the fire had fallen and the torch's fuel spent, but she could no longer afford to cling to anything so precious.

Zelda clapped her hands together to rid them of dust. "Well," she said, "let us collect our patient and be off."

They departed, exiting onto the rocky crag that housed Zelda Irashda's chosen prison. Fresh rain washed down mountain peaks as a storm battered the rocky strong hold. And while her young assistant struggled to protect her face from the onslaught, Zelda walked into the storm with her arms held wide.


	2. 2

"No," said Linus, a man in his thirties with unshaven stubble growing into an unshaven beard, as he crossed his arms and reached up to brush a wet clump of hair out of his eyes as the rain battered against him.

Zelda narrowed her eyes and placed a hand on the shoulder of her young assistant. The shadow creature lay on a makeshift stretcher beside Saria. "We paid you in advance," Zelda said.

"Ye didn' say anythin' about one a Ganon's Legion bein' with ya."

"It's comatose."

"Comatose? So was Ganon, what I hear. Looky where that got us."

Zelda cast a sideways glance at Saria, whose young frame shivered under the constant rainfall, doing her best to hide the minor case of the chills that was developing.

She cast her gaze then over Linus' shoulder to the ferry that was to be transport them. It was less impressive than Zelda had expected, even with already low standards; a ramshackle boat that looked to have been in a constant state of disrepair since the beginning of its lifetime. Only the steam powered paddle in the rear looked modern enough to hold up against the storm.

But it was shelter for Saria.

"Fine," Zelda said at last. "I'll pay you double. But you take us up river, no questions asked."

Linus considered it for a moment. "Double," he repeated. "But ya'd best have it up front now. Not doin' this for free, not with one of them Legion things onboard."

Zelda reached into her breast pocket, feeling around for her already dwindling supply of rupees. It would be better to do away with the ignoramus and commandeer the boat herself. What crew there was onboard could no doubt be convinced to serve under another, should income be all they desired.

But despite her treacherous thoughts, Zelda dropped two tiny silver gems into Linus' outstretched hand, refusing to dignify her compromise with an insult.

Linus smiled and spun around, striding up the gangplank while signaling to them over his shoulder. "C'mon then, don' be shy. We're gonna be good friends by the end all this."

Zelda scowled, taking one side of the stretcher while Saria took the rear, and followed Linus up his gangplank and onto his boat.

The ferry seemed a fragile thing, swollen with water and threatening to break apart at any moment, but the upper deck provided roof for the lower and brief shelter for weary hands. Zelda and Saria together lowered the stretcher.

Zelda stared at the ground in contemplative silence, scrunching her sleeves together. Thunder roared and lightning scarred the clouds. When her clothes were as dry as she had the patience to make them, Zelda crossed her arms and looked out from the ship, towards the perpetual darkness that had engulfed the land.

"Mistress Zelda, why are we going to Catalia?" said Saria.

Zelda looked up and met curious eyes with ambivalent ones. "To save the world, of course."

"Save… the world?"

Zelda noted the girl's darkened hair, the way bright green turned to bitter black when there was so little light to guide their way. "Haven't you been paying attention?" she said, eyes snapping back to the floor. "How do you think this is going to end? Do you believe that Ganon will one day allow the natural order of things to return?"

Zelda's eyes moved to the shadow construct at her feet, its red eyes the only thing distinguishing it from the rest of the darkness.

"There was once a story of a boy in green who traveled across time, wielding in his hands the Master Sword, blade of light and bane of all evil. When darkness loomed over Hylia, the boy would appear and cast it down, disappearing afterwards into time."

Saria hesitated. "…I don't know this story, Mistress Zelda."

"That's because the boy in green stopped coming back." Zelda drew her pocket watch, but paid no particular attention to the time. When the boat roared and lurched forward, she wrapped her fingers around the golden pocket-watch and pushed it back into her coat pocket.

"Why, Mistress Zelda?"

Zelda granted Saria a merciful gaze, as invisible as it was in the dim light provided in perpetual darkness. "No one's sure," she said. "There are theories, but nothing conclusive."

Zelda paced alongside the edge of the boat, running her hand across the rope put in place to keep passenger from falling over the side. She stared down at murky black water. A dark landscape passed them as they moved upriver, fighting against increasingly violent water. "Saria, we're going to bring back the boy in green."

Zelda looked to the forgotten shadow that comatose upon their stretcher.

"And we will use this creature as a vessel."

"A—"

With a wave of her hand, Zelda banished her assistant's words "Enough," she said. "You will learn what is necessary when we reach the Kokria. My business with them concerns your former guardian."

Saria nodded as she always had when her words spread too quickly into the topic.

Zelda knew only that a day had passed through one check of her pocket-watch. No sun rose to greet them, nor did the air around them warm. It was only through her pocket-watch that she knew they would soon arrive at their chosen, the shadow construct in tow. She knew also to be grateful that Ganon's Legion had not located them.

Yet.

Saria lay sleeping on the floor, her arms placed awkwardly beneath her head to provide cushioning.

Zelda considered for a moment waking her, but decided against it. Sleep had long since stopped being necessary for her. Though spider-webs of wrinkles crisscrossed beneath her eyes, she felt little. There was little point in sleeping if the whole world was black.

The rain had slowed to a light shower, no longer able to affect the flow of the river.

It was only a guess that they'd crossed into Catalia, a guess that Zelda was not comfortable relying on. Landmarks visible long ago could no longer be discerned. She opted instead to hunt down the captain, her bristly associate of before. She ascended several sets of stairs and found herself in the captain's next, Linus at the helm.

"How long till we dock?" Zelda said as she crossed her arms and approached Linus, his form illuminated by several choicely placed candles.

"Hour 'r so," he said, paying her little heed.

Only a thin sheet of glass protected Linus from the elements. Only a rotting wheel controlled the direction the ship would take, steering her near blind in the darkness that Ganon offered.

"How much did you sell us out for?" Zelda said.

Linus did not react.

"You wouldn't have extorted me if you didn't think you could get away with it."

Linus turned his head. "I lied to 'em. You don' think they're not eager to catch you? I've seen your picture all the time. Posters all over the place. Ye're not usually dumb, Zelda. Why bring the girl with ya? They'll take her just as soon as they'd take you. Ya know what the Legion does to prisoners. Might as well bury 'er while ye're at it."

Zelda was quiet for a long time.

She stared at the floor, biting her tongue until the storm that brewed inside passed. "Better dead than indoctrinated."

"Ya got that much o' a grudge?"

"Only against one of them." Zelda ended the conversation by heading toward the door, stopping momentarily to glare at Linus from the corner of her eye. "If anything happens to Saria before she and I leave," she said, "I will rip your heart."

And with that, they entered Catalia.


	3. 3

It was only deep within Catalia that light began to shine through the cover of blackened clouds, bringing light to the landscape. Only in Catalia could Zelda step forward without something to light her way.

She walked with Saria in tow, the shadow construct held on a stretcher between them as the navigated the scarcely used roads of Catalia's underbrush, each emitting a sharp intake of breath as sunlight warmed their skin and brought color to the world.

Only the shadow construct remained constant, its skin ever black, taking only the slightest of human shapes when exposed to sunlight.

But despite the relief offered by the warmth of the sun, Saria's fragile form began to tremble as they neared their destination. She watched as trees peeled away to reveal a small settlement nestled within the woodlands of Catalia—a village filled with no one older than she, all of them gangly and petite, their eyes following her as she entered, some curious, others malicious.

"Mistress Zelda," she said, her breathing rapid, "I don't think I can be here! I c—"

"Calm yourself," Zelda said, ignoring prying eyes as she directed her assistant to a large dwelling that seemed carved from a massive, "I'll not keep you if you insist on acting the child. You are _above _those you left behind."

Saria took a long breath that ended just as they approached their destination. "Thank you, Mistress Zelda." She stopped as Zelda did and helped her to lower the shadow construct's stretcher to the ground. Straightened her back till her stance mirrored the confidence carried by Zelda, she followed the Mistress through the curtained doorway into the dwelling.

When her eyes had again adjusted to the darkness, she found both familiar setting and familiar face.

The dwelling was as modest as the tree it had been carved from. Only a simple rug of a reddish tinge stood out of place. On that rug stood a familiar female face, one that looked to be carved of stone its features bored into Saria with such intensity.

"I have been watching you," said the figure, speaking more to Zelda than Saria, hands held behind her back as she stepped forward, her accent thick with something Zelda could identify only as "mountainous". "Your very presence endangers my people. Why are you here?"

Saria felt a near uncontrollable need to kneel and beg for forgiveness.

"Do not pretend these people are Kokria, Loranna," said Zelda, her tone cold.

Loranna held her chin high, lifting with it braids of black hair. "I resurrected a people once thought dead. You are in no place to judge my actions." Loranna's eyes flickered to Saria, who shrunk beneath her gaze. "Saria is not welcome while in your company. Why has she returned?"

"Saria is no longer Kokria, Kokiri, or whatever you're calling yourself now. She has devoted herself to saving the world you are so keen to give up on."

"And that is why you would bring Ganon's Legion upon my people? To 'save the world'?" Loranna turned her back on them, muscled physique silhouetted by shadow. "Leave, before I force you to leave."

Zelda crossed her arms. "I'm here seeking cooperation, _Loranna_. I brought with me something that should interest even your antiquated self."

"You have nothing to offer me."

"I offer Dark Link."

Loranna staggered, her once powerful stance weakened. Hands curled into fists a moment before fell open in surprise as she whirled around to confront a stoic Zelda. "_What_?"

Zelda smiled, having finally gained the upper hand. "I offer Dark Link."

"The Dark Links were destroyed by Ganon years ago."

"Not all of them."

"Where is it?"

"Outside."

Loranna stormed past them, brushing aside both Zelda and Saria as she made for the entrance, tearing down the curtain that once shielded her from the light in her rush to the outside world.

Zelda followed, smiling to herself as she interlaced her fingers across her chest. She exited to find Loranna kneeling beside the shadow construct, placing a shaking hand against the creature's forehead, muttering to herself in a long forgotten dialect. When her eyes again found Zelda's, their gaze was torn between hope and terror.

"Where did you find it?" said Loranna when she had again recovered.

"Facedown in an illusion surrounded by water."

Loranna turned again to the shadow construct, muttering again in the forgotten language. "Then it is the original, the one meant to strike down the Hero of Time as he awakened the Sage of Water."

"Yes—in the alleged alternate timeline. Saria has spoken to me about your version of history."

Loranna's gaze found its way again to Saria, but the hostility was gone from it. In its place was a halfhearted gaze filled with years of disappointment.

Saria could not bring herself to meet that gaze.

Loranna again muttered in the old language. "And you have brought the Dark Link to me," she said. "What is it you expect me to do?"

"Turn it into the Hero of Time."

Lora was quiet for a long time. She stood, her arms hanging limply at her sides, and returned to her dwelling. "I… must consider this," she said as she disappeared into darkness. "You will wait out here.

Zelda crossed her arms and let an arrogant smile creep across her face.

Saria's expression remained torn as she stared at the ground, her features twisted into a contortion of conflicting emotions.

The Dark Link remained still.


	4. 4

"I will do this," said Loranna when she returned, lifting her hands to reveal that they'd been colored a deep black, "But you must agree to my one term."

Zelda uncrossed her arms. "Which is?"

"Saria must return to—"

"No." Zelda met Loranna's gaze with a hostile glare, her arms once again crossed. "Saria will not be a part of this. She has chosen to remain with me and she will stay with me."

Loranna stood rigid and unwavering, directing her own eyes towards Saria, who turned away and retreated backwards. She lifted a blackened hand towards the girl, who backed away even further. Beneath the stone, something saddened in Loranna. She lowered her hand, then her gaze.

Zelda smirked. "How long do you think Ganondorf will be content to rule just Hylium? He's not taken Catalia yet because he's biding his time. If he wanted to invade, nothing would stop him."

She pointed to the Dark Link construct that remained in its place on the stretcher.

"That _thing _is your only chance. Either you give it life, or Ganondorf takes yours—and the lives of this little forest cult you've started. Isn't that too much blood for an old woman to handle?"

Zelda coyness disappeared when Loranna's hand reached out and wrapped around the wrist of Zelda left hand, lifting it into the air till Zelda struggled to stand on her own two feet.

"I know what you are," Loranna said, her features and tone cold. "Play your games with Saria, but I know what you are. _I _know why you do not bear the mark of the Goddesses on your hand. Your conscience is no cleaner than mine."

Zelda finally pulled herself free, stumbling backwards in the process. For the first time, she tripped over her words, holding her wrist as her mouth spouted all number of mumbled retorts.

Saria looked to Zelda for answers.

Zelda, catching Saria's gaze out of the corner of her eye, provided none.

Returning to the stoicism of before, Loranna continued her negotiation undeterred. "Saria will return to us and complete the coming of age ceremony. You will do nothing to interfere. Your influence has corrupted her enough already."

Loranna turned her attention to the Dark Link construct.

"If we are in agreement, we may continue."

Zelda did not speak. Eyes wide with both of fury and terror, she turned to Saria, not knowing what sort of reaction to expect. She found a girl who seemed suddenly older as she studied the one she'd long considered her mentor, her eyes glowing with a gradual realization.

Zelda looked away and nodded numbly to Loranna.

"Then our pact is formed. The Dark Link must be taken to the Guardian." Loranna knelt down and grabbed hold of one end of the stretcher. "Saria."

Acting on old instinct, Saria obeyed the unspoken command, squatting down to take hold opposite of Loranna, her lanky limbs displaying much strength for their size. When the platform had been raised to waist level, Saria's eyes wandered from Loranna to Zelda, her eyes curious.

Zelda followed them in silence as they went deep into the forest, wandering dark sections where only slim beams of sunlight found their way through the deep covering of leaves above.

She bit her lip and stared at the ground, the confidence of before all but vanished.

They walked till their feet ached and the cries of the forest faded. When silence and darkness surrounded them completely, Loranna came to a stop, forcing Saria to do so as well. Helping the younger girl to lower the stretcher, Loranna continued several steps forward on her own, her braided hair moved by a breeze that did not exist.

Loranna fell to her knees and placed both hands on the ground before her, taking soil between her fingers as she spoke again in the unknown tongue.

There was silence.

The earth before them moved. A hand twisted together from plant and dirt burst forth, grasping at the surface as it wrenched itself from the ground.

Saria fell to her knees and repeated Loranna's movements, speaking a thousand apologies.

Zelda held onto her surprise, revealed nothing of her emotions, and crossed her arms.

The being revealed itself to be humanoid—childlike even—comprised entirely of plant life and earth, its eyes empty and black. Where hair should have been, long grass fell from its head as though the creature itself was a forest. "My daughter," it said, its voice feminine, as it reached forward and placed a hand on Loranna's head, "you have returned to me. I have missed you, child."

Loranna said nothing, standing when the being removed her hand.

Zelda recognized two voices as the being spoke. One was that of a girl—young, even younger than Saria. The second was something powerful, something describable only as "godlike".

"I did not mean to call you away from your duties, Guardian," said Loranna, her accent gone.

"No harm has been done," the being said, speaking slowly as though it feared being unheard. "I wish my children may to speak with me as often as they will."

Loranna bowed her head. "News has been brought to me, Guardian, news that may undo the rule of Ganondorf and free us from his shadow."

"The trees carried this news to my ears." The being walked forward, uprooting itself with each step, only for life to spring up in its wake. It approached the Dark Link, circling it slowly and deliberately.

When it neared Zelda, she met the being's gaze with her own, watching as blackened eyes analyzed her.

"I felt a darkness enter the forest," said the being after a moment's consideration.

Zelda narrowed her eyes and met scrutination with scrutination.

"But not this creature." The being returned its attention to the Dark Link, kneeling down beside it. "A puppet possesses no will of its own, only the will of its master. When evil does not manipulate the strings, the puppet is nothing more than an empty shell."

The being placed a gnarled hand on the shadow construct's chest.

"This creature is empty, devoid of purpose. It contains no evil."

It retracted its hand.

"Why have you brought this to me?"

"_I _brought it," Zelda said, crossing her arms and making herself known; pacing, but not making eye contact with the forest creature.

The being stared. "This creature is a tool of the Prince of Darkness."

"Was, which is why I'm here." Zelda came to a stop, reaching into her pocket to remove her golden pocket-watch, paying no attention to the time as she diverted her gaze from the forest guardian. "I am here because the Hero of Time was a part of your little tribe and that he was buried here some time ago."

The being was silent, so Zelda continued.

"I want you to bring him back. Use the Dark Link as a vessel and bring him back." Zelda drummed one set of fingers on the opposite elbow. "This 'tribe' thinks of you as a god. You have enough of the Hero of Time to bring him back."

The being remained silent for several more second, its feet taking root in the earth where it stood. Its hollow black eyes stared forward; looking through Zelda to something beyond that only it could see. "The Hero of Time is at peace," the creature said at last, its eyes regaining focus. "Your place is not to question the n—"

"Your people will die, forest god." Zelda's eyes locked with the empty black orbs of the forest guardian. "The Kokiri will endure genocide for a second time—all because you were afraid to act." Zelda reached into her pocket and drew from it her golden pocket watch.

"The cycle has taught us that violence will not quell violence."

"And pessimism will?" Zelda shut the pocket-watch with more force than necessary. "Ganon will kill you all—and you're content to sit here and die not once, but twice. If that is what you wish, fine. We will find another way."

"Saria." She indicated with a slight motion of the hand that her assistant was to follow. Saria did, keeping her eyes down so as to avoid Loranna's gaze.

Zelda counted the second each second that passed.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

"Zelda," the guardian called, the dual voice of god and girl reverberating through the forest.

Zelda paused, but she did not turn to face the creature.

The forest guardian drew her roots from the ground with each step, her arms swinging slowly at her sides. "I will return the Hero's spirit to us, but he will belong to the forest, just as he did in his own life. He will be as he was when he passed from the living and you will do nothing to interfere."

Zelda smirked, though she allowed no one but herself to know of it. "Then all the pieces finally fall into place," said Zelda, words rank with smugness.


	5. 5

The ritual involved no corpse, contrary to Zelda's expectations. All that changed was the positioning of the participants. The Dark Link construct lay upon the ground with its arms stretched to the sides and its eyes eternally blank. The plants of the forest reached for it as they had the forest guardian, but retracted before they could make contact.

The guardian stood rooted nearby, manifesting roots from the earth, reaching them out to the Dark Link till their tips dug into its flesh.

Zelda paced, reaching into her pocket to again check her golden pocket-watch.

Saria focused her gaze on the ground, occasionally making chance glances towards Loranna, only to turn her eyes away before the older woman could take notice. She herself began to pace, fiddling with her hands and grappling with her thoughts.

Loranna sat before the Dark Link with her legs crossed, holding the blade of a long knife against the palm of her left hand, leaving a thing cut across her flesh that oozed blood. A wince was all the acknowledgment Lora allowed as she reached forward and placed the bloodied hand on the shadow construct's forehead, partially obstructing his eyes.

When silence persisted for a great deal longer, Zelda crossed her arms and shook her head to free the strands of brown hair that had become trapped beneath her collar. "When are we going to begin?" she said, showing no emotion save for the slight narrowing of her eyes.

"It has already begun," said Loranna, breaking her own silence.

"Not as far as I can tell."

"Patience."

Zelda bit her lip and remained silent.

The world fell silent around them. The persistent noises of the wildlife—even the wind itself came to a jarring halt.

And then a scream.

The construct's mouth erupted in a cacophony of violent noise. It tore away from the roots binding it to the ground, only to be faltered a moment later when it tried to draw air; for as much as it tried, it could not breathe. It brought its hands to its chest, falling back to its knee even as it tried to stand.

"…father?"

At the utterance of the word, Zelda stiffened. She searched out its source, only to find Loranna.

The construct's screams ended as its luminescent red eyes found Loranna. It stumbled forward, as though it had never walked before. Its feet dragged as though it had no more strength with which to act. "Lora?" it said with a voice that sounded dry beyond years. "Lora? Where are—Navi—Elina?"

Loranna bowed her head and said nothing.

The construct stopped mid-step, its face contorted by sadness. It slammed its eyes shut and tried to cry, only to find that it had no tears to give. It fell back to its knees, wailing, twisting its fingers through hair of shadowy black.

It screamed again.

Loranna fell to her knees beside it and silenced him with an embrace. His arms hung limply at his sides, but his cheek fell against her. "Elina?" he said again, its tone resigned

"I'm here, father."

Zelda shifted uncomfortably, a sensation she should not at all have been experiencing. Her eyes drifted from Loranna to the animated Dark Link. She opened her mouth to speak, but found herself unwilling to disrupt the moment. She crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes, and allowed the scene to play out before her.

"Where is Navi?" the construct said, breaking away and making another effort to stand. "Elina—Where is Elina?"

Loranna refused to meet her father's gaze. "You've been gone a long time, father. Everything's different."

The construct's gaze changed. He looked at her as though seeing her for the first. "Lora, you're…" He lifted a hand halfheartedly toward her, but allowed it to fall a second later. "I'm dead."

Even as its legs trembled and its body shook unsteadily beneath it, the construct paced.

"Oh Gods, I'm dead. I know I'm dead. I remember dying!" He looked down to its trembling hands, then back up to the forest before him. "Gods—Navi!" His fell back to his knees, cradling his head in his hands. "Navi—Na—" He began to cry, only to again find that it still had no tears to give.

The guardian uprooted itself and took slow, calculated steps, looking on with empty black eyes that matched the dark skin of the construct. She knelt beside the Dark Link, drawing up plant life from beneath where her gnarled feet came to rest. "Link," the guardian said, speaking as a girl, not a god. She placed a hand composed of gnarled roots on his back.

He slowly lifted his head to look at her with red eyes. A moment later, he uttered in the softest of voices, "Saria?"

The guardian hugged him, wrapping aged arms around a darkened body.

His own arms hung loosely at his side, but his shadowy features relaxed. He closed his eyes and slipped into a familiar voice, even if the voice no longer matched the memory.

Zelda crossed her arms and approached the fallen construct with a lopsided gaze. "We can't linger here. Ganon may already know about your resurrection."

Link pulled himself away from the guardian. "Ganon?"

"You've been gone a long time."

The construct pushed himself to his feet, but remained groggy. "No—that can't be right. Zelda and I stopped Ganondorf when—" He paused.

Zelda narrowed her eyes. "We know about the split in the timeline."

"How?"

"Things have changed."

For the first time, Link looked at her. "Who are you?"

"Zelda."

He looked at her left hand.

Zelda pulled her sleeve down to cover the back of her palm, never breaking away from his gaze.

Loranna wrapped her fingers around the construct's upper arm. "Many things have changed, father," she said. "Our world is very different from the one you knew."

The construct resigned itself to a melancholy expression and allowed itself to be escorted through a world it no longer recognized.


	6. 6

"Ganon invaded," Zelda said when they had at last barricaded themselves inside the hollowed out tree stump that was Loranna's home, away from the prying and innocent eyes of Kokria invading the air with their curiosity. "Decades after your death, he returned with an army of abominations."

A fire had been lit to heat the rapidly cooling air. All savored it, but none crowded around.

"He failed. With that failure, he was convicted of high-treason and executed."

"But he didn't stay dead," said Link.

Zelda nodded. "As he was dying, the Triforce of Power manifested and gifted him with unstoppable magic." Zelda scoffed. "The Ancient Sages called it a divine prank. But before he could break free, he was sealed in the Twilight Realm, a prison where Hyrule confined its degenerates."

Loranna looked unkindly toward Zelda from her sitting position, but allowed the Mistress to continue.

"Needless to say, he broke free. A century later, he brought his army to Hyrule a second time. Initially, he acted through another—a usurper king of the Twilight Realm." She pointed halfheartedly to Link. "And then the boy in green came, wielding the blade of evil's bane."

"I never fought Ganondorf in this timeline."

"No, but the one who did was just like you. Something you did began a cycle of heroes. Ganondorf would return, but you would always be there to strike him down." Zelda looked to the floor. "And then you stopped coming. Ganondorf came back again—but you didn't. He's been biding his time in Hyrule for thirty years. The Legion controls everything."

There was a knock at the entrance. A girl with hair of green stepped into the stuffy darkness. When her eyes found the construct, she froze.

Loranna stood. "Yes, Saria?" she said, disrupting the silence.

Link looked to back to the girl who had been identified by a name he associated with another.

The girl stared for several moments before answering. "I…," she said, pausing to search for words, "…just wanted to see if it really worked."

Loranna motioned for the girl to leave, but Zelda did the opposite, standing and pulling the girl into a sitting position beside her.

Zelda and Loranna exchanged looks of contempt before Zelda continued with her tale. "As I was saying: everything's gone."

Link rested his chin on a fist and leaned on his right knee. "This is—a cycle?"

"Something of the sort. They're all like you: little boys with fairies and princesses in tow. But something happened and the hero hasn't reappeared—and considering the size of Ganon's army, I don't think it would make much of a difference if he did."

"So you brought me back."

"We need you to kill him."

Link twisted the blackened features of the construct into something thoughtful. He glanced to his shoulder, only for his gaze to fall back to his lap, as though seeking something that was no longer there. "I was happy," he whispered.

Loranna cast her gaze downward.

"I had the woman I loved and I had children, and—" He rested his head in his left hand. "Gods, I can't—if this is real, then everything I've done is—Gods…"

There was a long moment of silence where no one seemed sure what to say.

"Link." It was the guardian—suddenly standing—who spoke. "Would you come with me?"

The construct met her dark eyes with red. He pushed himself into a standing position, wordlessly excusing himself from the darkness of Loranna's home. Curious eyes met him, all belonging to children of familiar form. He recognized the lifestyle of the Kokiri, but he did not recognize their age.

It occurred to him only then that the world he stepped into was unfamiliar.

He had no idea where to go.

The guardian was beside him, uprooting herself with each step, beginning a journey wordless into the forest they'd only returned from.

Link watched as the plant-life that made up her body twisted and squirmed in response to her movements. That girl he considered his best friend seemed so distant from the one before him, who seemed without a soul. "Saria, what happened?" he said, coming to a stop when they had at last distanced themselves from the village.

The guardian came to a halt several steps ahead. She stared onward, as though seeing something that Link could not. Finally, she turned to him, meeting him with empty black eyes.

"Many things," she said at last, her voice echoed by another—something powerful.

"Why are you—" He gestured to her, as though he lacked the words to describe her appearance.

Even without the emotion of flesh, the guardian's features seemed saddened. She turned away once again and walked onward.

Link followed.

"I am the lifeblood that the Great Deku Tree left for our people. When the Great Deku Tree's magical wards failed, I was left as the protector." She spoke without emotion.

Link twisted his head slightly to the left. "'Our'," he repeated.

She turned to him, reaching forward to place a gnarled hand on his chest. "You always belonged to the forest, Link. The Hylians could not take your childhood from you."

Link wrapped his fingers around the guardian's wrists, feeling every piece of life that made up her being. He held it there, lowering his head in unconscious honor of something lost and raising it only when he had mustered the courage to ask the only question that truly needed answering.

"What happened to Elina?" he said, his voice aquiver.

The guardian again stared straight ahead for several moments without answering.

"What happened to my daughter?"

"She died."

"You brought me back, can't you bring her back!"

The guardian was silent, but Link did not pry. Something loomed between them; a barrier of emotion that Link could no longer deny existed. He released her hand, letting it fall as though he'd forgotten he'd held it.

"Why can't you bring her back?"

"Because there is always a cost."

"And what was the cost to bring me back?"

The guardian was silent.

"Saria!"

It jolted her, the name. She looked at him as she hadn't before, with some unseen emotion. Something changed in the way she stood, from god to girl.

She hugged him.

Link fumbled backwards a step, but returned it, all anger forgotten. He realized how small she still was, how her head barely came up to his chest. A small crept across his features—almost a laugh.

It was the guardian who pulled away first so that she could bring a hand up to her chest. Her body peeled apart, accommodating for a hand that reach into the niche where her heart had once rested. She extracted from it a brown instrument, larger than her hand, and held it out to Link.

An ocarina.

"Do you remember what you did before you died?" she said

Link stared at the instrument, his thoughts clouded.

"You said many things—" The guardian looked away. "—but you held me and told me to watch over everyone."

Even as the guardian pressed the instrument into Link's hands, his expression was unreadable, he stared down at the memory cradled in his palms, running his hands over the smoothly carved surface.

"It is still possible for us to speak through the song. I no longer require the ocarina."

Link finally lifted his gaze. "…Thank you."

He searched for somewhere to stuff the ocarina, only to find that his body was not one he recognized as his own.

Zelda Irashda paced.

The village was quiet despite its youthful population. They played, but they did not do so loudly. They spoke, but not boisterously. They lived, but did so warily.

As she paced about the outskirts of the Kokria's settlement, she contemplated all that had been accomplished—and all that had been learned.

A daughter—a _long living_ daughter.

Zelda adjusted the collar of her purple over-shirt and the position of her brown vest.

There were no written records of descendants outside of the cycle, but it was not impossible. Those few heroes she had knowledge of did not complete their tasks alone. Life-threatening situations in particular would be quite likely to push people together as the world crumbled.

But a daughter?

A living daughter?

But Loranna—

Zelda's face contorted with anger even as she thought the name. Of all who could have been—why Loranna? A pessimistic dictator? A potential liability?

Zelda slowed her pace, bringing her hands together over her stomach as she took several deep breaths. Her eyes narrowed as she sank into thought, recalling with ease the information she had done away with. Dates. Events. People.

Objects.

She cleared her mind and searched for what was needed:

A blade of evil's bane.

There were many references to the Master Sword throughout history. Of those many, only two mattered—two that proved conflicting reports of its whereabouts. The first mentioned a temple dedicated to the flow of time—the very place from where the Hero of Time had drawn the blade. The second spoke of a deep forest grove, surrounded by riddles and hidden away deep within the trees.

Both records were centuries old, if not a millennia.

Zelda cursed.

Useless.

The Hero of Time could be probed for information, but such an endeavor would be inevitably fruitless. The sword's location had no doubt changed after his lifetime, only to change again.

She was face again with the prospect of relying upon Loranna, who was likely keeping such information to herself.

Zelda lifted the back of her hand to eye level.

Her flesh was blank.

She tugged her sleeve till it covered the back of her hand. Her gaze flickered about, scanning the trees. Only when she was again comfortable did she return to the previous matter: the Master Sword.

"Mistress Zelda."

She recognized the voice as Saria's. She recognized the tone as apprehensive. Curious, Zelda lifted her eyes and met those of the apprentice, whose own gaze lingered near the ground. "You're far from your shepherd," Zelda said, slipping her hands behind her back her back and interlocking her fingers. "You've been given over to Loranna for this ceremony of hers."

Saria lifted her head and crunched further across the forest floor towards Zelda.

Zelda belittled her pride and spoke again. "What is this ceremony?"

Saria looked uncomfortably to her left and hesitated. "It's… different for the women. We bear children."

Zelda did not mask surprise, for none existed. It was as she had expected. Instead, she continued to pace, remaining several steps away from Saria. "Loranna intends to separate you from me and assimilate you back into her cult," she said. "My presence has only been permitted thus far because I am of value to her."

Zelda looked to the Kokria village with bitter eyes.

"Did you know that you shared a name with your goddess?"

Saria's gaze remained downward. "I did not, Mistress Zelda."

Zelda was quiet for a moment. "The Sage of the Forest—alive." She lifted her chin. "I should have known. Magic never dies. It fades, only to return twice as strong."

She readjusted her left sleeve before reaching into her pocket and withdrawing her golden pocket-watch.

"We will leave tonight," Zelda said after a moment's consideration of the time. "I have no intention of handing you back to Loranna for reindoctrination."

Saria laid a hand across her stomach. "Mistress Zelda, you told her—"

"I lied. She intended to deceive me about the length of the ritual. It's obligatory that I shorten the length of your stay." Zelda drummed the tips of her fingers together. "She's full enough of herself that she underestimates me in even the smallest of matters."

She gestured for Saria to follow as they began towards the Kokria village.

"And besides," she said, "we have another task. The hero is powerful, but without the Master Sword, he's as useless as the rest of us. I have need of Hylium's grand library. There must have been someone sensible enough to scribble down its location."


	7. 7

Link ran a finger across the skin of his palm.

He could barely describe the sensation. Even against his own flesh, his touch was inky. No manner of cleaning could reduce the feeling; to his very soul, he felt unclean—something from the depths of a nightmare that had suddenly been given life.

His face bore familiar features, but they, too, were alien. Vivid red eyes glowed from his sockets, staring at him from intently from each mirror he glanced in that he did not bear maintain the reflection for more than a second.

He asked of his daughter the question that had gone unanswered: "What was the cost."

Her expression was distant.

They sat together in the forest, but not as he had wanted to hold his daughter again. Her face was stern, far changed from the child he had raised. There was no humor in it. Although she offered smiles, they never reached her eyes.

"It doesn't matter, father. You're alive."

Father.

She spoke the word stiffly, as though uncomfortable with the title.

"What did you do, Lora?" he said

He found something cold in her gaze, something resentful—but it vanished, so quickly that he could not be sure that it had been there in the first place. "There was no cost."

Even had she not been his daughter, he would have recognized the lie.

He switched subjects. "These Kokiri," he said, his voice soft, "why are they old? I was twelve when I left the forest and no one looked older than me."

Loranna stared straight ahead—straight through him. "…They are not the Kokiri. The Kokiri did not survive far past your death."

"But they're—" Link braced himself against the ground.

"The children of this village refer to it as The Burning." Loranna's expression bore a sadness that aged her beyond even her great years. "'They came and cut the trees asunder/The cannons roared as loud as thunder/To King Boren went the plunder.'"

"Prince Boren—?"

"Burned the Kokiri Forest to the ground in the name of Hyrule."

Link closed his eyes and let his head fall to his hands. "Gods…"

"If not for Queen Zelda's influence, it would have happened much sooner."

"But I could have stopped it."

Loranna placed both hands flat on the earth beside her and closed her eyes. "There was nothing you could have done. You were no longer the warrior you once were."

Link inferred enough from her words to feel offended, only for it to be overridden by the looming realization that his daughter was as dead as he. In her place was someone he could no longer identify—someone who's emotions seemed long since dead.

He stood and walked outside, pausing only for a moment to rub his forehead, wincing as skin made contact with inky skin. "Gods," he said again. He distracted himself from such thoughts by taking in what he had not before: a people that were not his own.

Though they lived much the same way, dressed in the same manner of green apparel, and carried themselves about the forest and its many levels in the style of the Kokiri, they were not the people he had once known. Their faces did not contain the ever-youthful roundness of the forest children. Their years showed distinctly across their features.

He walked from the village with some speed, staring intently at the horizon with no thought for where he might be going. He needed distance, regardless of where that distance might put him.

Link felt alone.

It had been so long that—it was alien to him again. Years had been spent surrounded by friends—loved ones—only for him to become again the boy without a fairy. The lay of the world was no longer trained to his mental map.

He ran his fingers through blackened locks of hair.

"Hero!" someone said.

Link turned to face the source of the voice, finding the woman who had relayed to him his legacy. "Zelda," he said, in recognition rather than response.

She moved without the air of grace that he had known the Princess Zelda of his world to possess.

This Zelda moved with grim purpose.

"You're leaving," Zelda said—stated—with an unwaveringly neutral tone as she crossed her arms.

Link noted the young girl lingering several feet behind her—the green haired one he'd heard addressed as Saria. Lacking the strength to speak, he shrugged and shook his head.

"Then you can join us on an extended tour of Hylium."

Link narrowed his red eyes.

"Your Hyrule. Terms have changed along with the times."

He considered her—less her words than her person. If she was truly Zelda, he would have expected the mark to appear. Even in his return to a world that had not known the tyranny of Ganondorf, Zelda's had manifested at the mere presence of the mark of Courage.

But Link said nothing of it. "Why?"

"Why would we go back?" Zelda lifted her eyebrow and allowed the coyest of smirks to slip across her lips. "The Master Sword, of course. As heroic as you may be, you're useless to us without your blade of evil's bane.

"What about the Temple of Time?"

"Gone—destroyed years ago during the Hylian Civil War."

Link's shoulders tightened. "What war?"

"I assume Loranna told you about The Burning? It did not end with the Kokiri."

"Tell me."

"Come with us and we'll see if the topic doesn't come up."

Link bowed his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. His gaze again flickered to his right shoulder, looking for something that seemed to no longer exist. He brought a hand up and began to twist at his wrist. "What about Lora?"

Zelda lifted her chin and seemed about to say something, but paused and reconsidered her words. She drummed her hands on the front of her waist, smiling to herself. "Loranna will be busy dealing with her family. She won't mind if we relocate unannounced."

Link winced, feeling again as though tears should be running down his face. Lora was gone—little Lora—

And Navi.

He didn't even have Navi.

Link shut his eyes and brought a hand to his forehead.

Only fleeting memories.


	8. 8

Link walked.

Even in a world he did not recognize, it was the one method of travel that remained universal.

They traveled alongside a blackened river in a world that seemed overcome by night. In the brief hours that had passed, their path had turned dark.

He could no longer see himself amidst the shadows.

The silhouettes of Zelda and Saria kept him straight in his course, but even then his steps were uncertain.

Saria.

He mouthed it to himself—a familiar name attributed to an unfamiliar person. The girl seemed infantile—unlike the girl he had known, even despite dark green hair of a similar hue to that of the girl he knew as Saria.

But it was of Zelda that he thought to question. He had noticed immediately that she did not bear the mark of Wisdom, though she claimed his friend's name, and he pondered the best away to approach such an inquiry.

Link brought up his left hand, revealing blank, shadowy flesh.

He did not bear the mark either.

They came to a stop at a river crossing, where a long stone bridge stretched across a dark river, leading further into shadow. Zelda exchanged words with the one called Saria, but Link paid them little attention. He looked to no place in particular, finding it difficult to focus. The only word he took from of the exchange was the twice used "Hero".

Zelda spoke it with contempt; Saria with some level of awe.

He noted the reverent tone she reserved for Zelda in everything she said.

Nothing living made home on the barren wasteland. Neither those races he was familiar with, nor those monsters created by Ganon. Link found his company wandering across a barren wasteland, walking across fields that seemed recently dead while looking to forests that seemed long rotted.

Two distant balls of light penetrated the darkness, bright enough to illuminate even Link's shadowy form.

"Castle City," said Zelda without any recognizable emotion before they'd even neared the lights. "Welcome to Ganon's head."

"But we didn't see any of his creatures," he said.

"Why would he bother? Castle City controls commerce. The people flock to him, even if he does nothing but sit on his throne."

Castle City eventually came into view, a massive wall of stone reinforced with metal plates. At such a distance, the light was such that its entire outline could be made out. Five towers arranged in a pentagon jutted a mile into the air from the center, each capped by a roaring flame.

Zelda stopped their advance some mile from the city and gestured to her right with a tilt of her head. "We can't go in the front door. Ganon's Legion would have no qualms about ending my life if Ganon decides not to do so himself."

"Then how do we get in?" said Link.

"The same way I left. There's an old escape dating back to the second Hero that leads inside. With any luck, the Legion will not have discovered it yet." She glanced at Link. "But supposing they did, you could use the exercise."

Link's expression did not change.

They moved some way right.

The girl, Saria, stayed at Zelda side as the elder woman searched the ground for something hidden beneath the obvious. She took short, careful steps across the ground, listening after each for the sound of a hollow entryway.

They moved in such a fashion for some time before Zelda lifted her arms and looked at her feet. "Here," she said before bending down to dig her fingers into the soil.

With a heft, a metal door previously unseen opened with a dull squeak, revealing a set of archaic stairs leading down into nothing.

"Do you have a light?" said Link as he peered down.

Zelda chuckled. "Light? No, Hero. Saria and I will lead you. All you have to do is hold a hand and keep up."

Zelda took three steps down the stairs before turning around and offering a hand to Saria.

Saria accepted the offer and allowed Link to take her own.

Together they stepped into the darkness, pulling the door shut behind them.

All light vanished.

Their travel was sluggish, but Link did not doubt that he was being accommodated for. With one hand linked to Saria's, he ran the other along the tunnel's wall. He recognized the outlines of stone blocks, along with a musty smell that reminded him of the maze-like temples he had been forced to explore, during his own life.

One of his steps took him through a deep puddle, soaking both boots through to the flesh.

He hesitated for a moment before taking his next step.

There was no flesh.

It was so easy to forget that his body was no longer his own—that the body he now inhabited belonged to a creature he himself had obliterated.

Link's red eyes blinked in the darkness.

He focused on the tiny, child-like hand clasped within his own, the pulse of which was strong enough that the girl's heart seemed to beat from within her hand.

…she did remind him of Saria in some small way.

Some short ways off, he heard the skittering of tiny feet across stonework floors. Water fell in drops from the ceiling.

And then light.

It came in bits and fragments, seeping through cracks to briefly illuminate the features of those three who passed beneath the earth.

"We're nearing the exit," he heard Zelda say, though the voice seemed oddly directionless.

The small hand entwined with Link's own slipped away—and for a moment, he was lost to darkness.

From above came the scraping of stone. Light streamed in, enough so that Link could make out Zelda's outline as she climbed the mold covered ladder connecting the tunnel floor to the ground above, pushing aside the stone slat that hid their exit.

Saria followed her out.

A moment later, only Link remained, wishing again for lungs so that he might breathe.

He climbed, finding himself in an alley of grey surrounded by light artificial.

Grey stone walls stretched up in three directions, leaving the only opening at his back. Above him was a sky that rained down darkness, diluted by the many lanterns fastened to the city's many walls. It was in many ways identical to the tunnel that they had exited a moment ago, differentiated only by the ever-present shuffle of a quiet crowd.

He turned and found himself staring down a long alley, many meters from a large crowd that moved quietly across the stone street. In that crowd, he recognized the kingdom he had left behind—Hylians. Whatever this Zelda called them, they were Hylians nonetheless.

It was then that he chose to lower his head, to stare at hands that were no longer of flesh and blood.

"You're fine," said Zelda, handing Saria two short, shaved sticks before tying a band around her hair till it stood in a short ponytail. "As far as they know, you're part of Ganon's Legion. Keep quiet and they won't know the difference."

Zelda stripped away the dirtied purple coat she had been wearing, revealing a black shirt with sleeves lined at the end with golden fabric.

Saria, meanwhile, busied herself with the stick Zelda had provided her, wrapping her hair in a bun so that it was fastened securely behind her head.

Link narrowed the reddened eyes of the shadow construct. "Aren't we trying to avoid—"

"We are, but we won't be recognized here. You have to be careful to make the right kind of impression in public so that you can walk safely in private. They'll be looking for a gallivanting anarchist." She strode forward, gesturing for the others to following and speaking quickly as she went. "Hero, the Grand Library is five blocks to your right, followed by two blocks to your left. Don't get lost."

With a wave, Zelda disappeared into the crowded city street.

Link stood motionless.

The girl with the green hair bowed to him. "Hero," she said, before herself leaving, swept away in a sea of people.

Link was last, hesitant. He watched as Hylians passed beneath artificial light; he watched as long, points ears reached up to the heavens.

They were not so different from what had once been he.

Link vanished into the crowd.


	9. 9

An armored goliath of flesh overlaid with metal and standing four meters tall cut a swathe through the crowded streets. With both hands it held a crude stone mace against its shoulder, staring blankly across the heads of the crowd with eyes far too small for a being its size.

Darknut

Zelda could have reached out and touched it as she passed. Its labored breathing reached her ears even across the patter of a thousand feet all scratching against the ground at once.

It was the only creature assigned to the district, but it was all that was necessary.

Five blocks right and a turn left from their point of origin was where she found the Grand Library, a building standing five stories high and topped with a spherical glass dome, while a brass arch marking the entryway. The double doors she remembered had been replaced by a far less conspicuous single door constructed from reinforced metal with an off-colored slat near the top where someone from inside could look out.

She leaned against the door and rapped against it twice with the knuckle of her index finger.

A long pause.

She looked out across the sea of unfamiliar faces, searching for Saria.

The slat of the door slid open before she could complete her search. Standing up straight, she met the gaze of the doorman—one that she recognized by the youth behind the grey eyes.

"Shad," she said.

"Marie," the person behind the door said, "or is it Zelda now? Still fighting the good fight? Or have you resigned yourself to venting your anger through murder?"

"Open the door, Shad."

"I don't think so. I'm not going to be victim to your moral lapses."

Zelda considered his words for a moment.

"Do you still keep that pistol behind the door?" she said.

Shad seemed taken aback by the question. "If yo—"

Zelda jammed two fingers through the slat in the door into Shad's eyes. He stumbled back, clutching his face as Zelda pushed open the door, forcing Shad back.

He was a small man. Short brown hair; rectangular spectacles. In his face was all the strength of youth, but in his body was none of the power to use it. He scrambled backwards across the library's wooden floor while trying pushing himself to his feet, ending his journey within the library's primary, circular room, each additional floor held up by white marble pillars.

Zelda, in turn, shut the door behind her and snatched the flintlock pistol from its rack fastened to the back of the door and pointed it at Shad. "If I were you, I would invest in something more secure," she said as she lifted her chin and cast her gaze about the vast confines of the library.

She heard footsteps from behind.

"Ah, Saria," Zelda said without looking, "I worried that the Hero would slow you down. Thank you for proving me wrong."

Saria stepped past her, paying little attention to the fallen Shad, lifting her head and spinning around as she looked to the library's upper levels, two of which sat empty. "Mistress, they've taken some."

"I noticed." Zelda brought the barrel of the pistol up against her shoulder. "But Ganon doesn't know what we know. We'll have enough to work with."

A second set of footsteps from behind.

"Hero," said Zelda, looking back and nodding to the shadowy form that had entered the library behind them several seconds later.

She pointed the gun at Shad at he tried to skitter away. "I guarantee that, if I pulled the trigger, no one would miss you," said Zelda.

Zelda glanced back at the Hero.

"Watch him," she said as she tossed the gun to Link.

He cradled it in his hands and stared. "…what is it?"

After a moment, she took the pistol and handed it instead to Saria. "Saria—"

Saria nodded.

Zelda smiled. She made for a narrow spiral staircase leading up to the upper levels, taking the steps two at a time. The Master Sword was always kept in a place of worship—even if all that remained of that place was crumbled stone and forgotten stories.

The four floors were divided into millenniums, while each floor's sections were split into centuries. All items in the archive were arranged alphabetically according to the last name of the creator, while items pertaining to the construction of the royal family's castle were categorized under their last name instead—Harkinnian.

She knew what it was she had to find.

Zelda ran an index finger across a long row of thickly bound tomes, reading across the each name till she stumbled across a section of a shelf separated from the collection proper by two bookends. Three large crimson tomes marked "Harkinnian" seemed to jut out from the shelf, giving themselves to her.

She struggled for several moments to position all three books comfortably, her arms struggling to maintain balance as she wobbled back down the narrow spiral staircase.

Link took one from her and made her way to a thick wooden table positioned on the far side of the room.

"Mistress," Saria said, maintaining a hold on her pistol, "what are we looking for?"

"Something," said Zelda, dropping both tomes onto the table with a tremulous thump. "The Master Sword was moved, but I don't know where."

"Moved?" said Link, leaning forward onto the table, where his fingers seemed to dye the wood a deep black.

"The Royal Family requested that Parliament move the Master Sword to Capital City so that it could be made readily available to whoever needed it." Zelda sat down in one of the many chairs lining the table and peeled open the cover of the first book, revealing a long list of signatures on the first page of those who had contributed to its contents.

"Then where is it now?"

"That information died with the Royal Family."

Link narrowed his eyes, cutting the glow of red they cast. "And you?"

Zelda met the Hero's gaze. "My parents were executed when I was two. What is it you would expect me to remember? Nannies and rattles?"

The Hero did not continue his questioning, but neither did he look upon Zelda with trust.

Zelda carefully turned each page, scanning the names and records listed before moving to the next, passing each word without enthusiasm. Each page was divided into three crammed columns: one for the builder, one for the name given to the project, and one for date of completion.

Her mind wandered elsewhere as she read, hiding in a dark corner where it could contemplate.

She ran her index finger down each page, smudging some of the ink when bits of sweat fell to her finger tip.

Her journey into the first ended prematurely. Zelda eased the cover shut and pushed it aside, moving onto the second, a book identical in form and layout to the first. She scanned it

Again, nothing of note.

Her mind lingered in the dark.

An odd feeling accompanied the opening of the third—not a fear that she might have failed, but a rising bubble of anticipation in her stomach as she drove herself ever closer to her goal.

But from that feeling grew an ill hypothesis.

Her index finger slowed to a stop in the center of a new page.

A single entry stood out from the thousands of signatures scrawled into the tiny lines. It lacked both name and date, and was identified by a single, meaningless word written with haste in the center column:

Power.

Zelda looked from her work to find that some hours had passed. The Hero had retreated some distance away, leaning back in a chair with his eyes closed, propping the front legs of the chair up with his feet.

Saria maintained watch over Shad, who had sulked his away across the room to the stone wall separating the library from the next building over, casting antagonistic glances at his young captor.

Zelda stood up and ran a hand through her hair, noting that a shower was long overdue.

"Saria," she said, approaching the girl from behind and placing a hand upon her shoulder.

The girl's body relaxed. She turned her head to meet Zelda with bright, innocent eyes that bore both innocence and maturity. "Mistress?" the girl said.

"You may relieve yourself."

Saria registered the meaning of the words and returned the pistol to Zelda before uncomfortably wobbling off towards a corridor on the far left side of the room.

Zelda paced before Shad, who hid his fear well. The area between them was bare, while the wall behind Shad was stone—solid and without escape. She paced and considered. "Tell me, Shad," she said, her voice calm, but without any hint of intent, "what is it you live for, knowing that so many people have died for you?"

Shad said nothing, but his eyes no longer bore confidence. His robe—an elaborate, sewn thing composed of a multitude of blues and greys—neatly masked the quaking of his body. He held his arms inches away from his body, as though he were unsure what to do with them.

His eyes never ventured far from the weapon in Zelda's hands.

"I remember how easily you kowtowed to him," said Zelda, glancing to the corridor down which Saria had disappeared. "While I fought, you profited."

Shad was silent.

"Coward."

Zelda considered the tool of fate she held. She considered—and lifted it, the firing mechanism primed. Though her own weapon of choice was remained the keen blades of old, she appreciated what effort had gone into constructing such a piece of art against which mere man was powerless.

"I heard a rumor once," she said, "an innocent little thing."

Zelda looked to Shad with empty eyes.

"Someone once told me that you opened the gates for Ganon's Legion during the siege of Capital City." She aimed the pistol at Shad's neck and stared down the crudely constructed iron sights. "Is that true, Shad?"

Shad looked to the right

"I thought so."

The explosion of power sent shockwaves up her arm. Sparks flared from the muzzle-end and blew smoke up towards the ceiling.

At the last moment, Shad brought his hands up to cover his face.

The smoke cleared.

The shot had imbedded itself in the stone to the right of Shad's head.

Zelda lowered the pistol, only to be grabbed and pushed to the ground before she could prepare herself.

"What are you _doing_?" hissed the familiar voice of the Hero, the inky texture of Link's skin spreading an uncleanly sensation across her own.

Despite her predicament, Zelda maintained control. She calmed herself—her heart—and spoke evenly. "Shad is responsible for everyone who died in Capital City. And if Ganon's Legion turns on the Kokria, then he will be twice the murderer."

The Hero's grip faltered, but did not loosen.

"Look at his face. He could write a confession with it."

Which Link did. He found Shad quivering against the wall where Zelda confronted him. His left arm shook, but it was to his face that the Hero was drawn. It revealed fear—a primitive, instinctual fear that had reacted to the shot—but when Shad at last met Link's gaze, it revealed something deeper.

Guilt; words unspoken, but left ajar by the windows to the soul.

Shad's left arm continued to shake; his face contorted in pain.

The Hero released Zelda. His gaze lingered on Shad for a moment before Link turned away, putting several paced between himself and the others. He hugged himself, though it provided little comfort.

"Mistress?"

Saria returned at that moment, using her sleeves to wipe away what remained of the water.

Link stared at the floor.

Zelda pushed herself to her feet. "We're done here, Saria" she said. "We have what we came for. 'Power' is a code word. Simple, but effective enough at keeping people out if they don't know the depth of what they're looking for."

She withdrew the golden pocket-watch and stared it at it for several moments.

"Hero—" She pointed very lazily at Link. "—loosen those muscles. Make sure that left arm of yours can take a blow or several."

Zelda redirected her gaze to assistant, where her expression softened.

"Saria—I would tell you to bunker down and wait here, but that would kill you. It's Ganon's influence—once we undertake the final step, he'll come after us. Everything you've ever heard about him will come down in a raging storm."

Shad's face turned red as he clamped his jaw shut in pain, still clutching his left arm. Only Link took notice, kneeling beside the scholar. His hands hovered uncomfortably above Shad's left shoulder. "He's having a heart attack!" said Link at last in frustration.

Zelda waved a hand. "Leave him. A small price for all he's done."

Link stood, torn between physically confronting Zelda and remaining at Shad's side to offer what little assistance he could. The hero seethed, his eyes overflowing with a treacherous anger he struggled to control. "We're not leaving him to die."

"Aren't we?" Zelda met his anger with a cold confidence. "You left an entire nation to die, yet here you are facing down death to protect the life of a traitor?"

"You're not Zelda."

The brief, uttered accusation struck somewhere within Zelda. She shifted her stance and tilted her head, narrowing her eyes further. "No? Would you rather that I hide away in a tower and wait for a dashing hero to rescue me?"

"Zelda would have cared."

Though its shot was spent, Zelda aimed the flintlock pistol at Link's neck. "I will do this with you, Hero, or I will do this without you. You are an accessory to this quest—one that I could do without. I have performed impossible deeds before—a sword in a stone doesn't worry me."

"Zelda!"

The young girl with green hair elicited a name Zelda had not once heard her speak. Saria placed both hands on Zelda's weapon-arm and pushed down, lowering the gun.

Zelda accepted the motion after some hesitation.

Her gaze moved to Saria and lingered there, softened by the girl's hand.

A long moment of silence.

Zelda lowered her gun. "We're leaving. Hide your sympathy away if you have to, because Shad is staying here."

The Hero's glower, but said nothing. His left hand twitched, obeying an instinct that compelled him to draw a sword from where one did not exist. When his anger refused to dim, he turned his gaze to the floor, venting his energy through heated breaths.

Zelda turned to leave.

"You're evil," he said at last.

Zelda paused and turned her head to the left, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "I know," she said.


	10. 10

They were again in their secret entrance—the tunnel connecting the outer rim of Capital City to the very core of Hylium Castle.

Dank.

Dark.

Lonesome.

Zelda and Saria remained connected in spite of shadow, but Link was left to flounder in the darkness, following the sound of their scrapes as he shuffled across the scraggy floor in their wake. No light shined through the ceiling to guide their way as it had when they had entered, leaving Link without knowledge of where the tunnel would way of knowing where the shadows ended.

He felt calm, in spite of the circumstances.

Zelda held a one-sided whisper of an exchange with Saria, none of which Link could make out.

He stepped over a large object impeding his path.

Hylium Castle was their destination—a tall, octagonal castle in the center of Capital City that bore only the loosest of connections to the distant place Link had known as Castle Town. Again, he was forced to walk among shadows, kept in the dark by a Zelda who refused to divulge the specifics of their destination—save to Saria.

Saria.

In darkness, Link mouthed the name to himself, unable to keep from associating it with someone else.

The dual sets of scratchy footsteps ahead of him came to a halt, as did he.

He felt hot breath in his ear. "You will say nothing," said Zelda, wrapping snake-like fingers around his bicep. "You will fight only if I signal. And you will _not _forget your place."

Zelda was away.

From somewhere, dust and rock fell against the floor as boots and knees ran against stone.

And then light.

Not a blinding feed of lamps and fires as it had been in streets of Capital City, but a dim yellow glow that seemed only to exist as an afterthought. Link could again make out Zelda, standing atop a pile of rubble to push open a block in the ceiling. And Saria, ever at her side, whom Zelda offered a hand to so that the girl could step up beside her.

Zelda pulled herself through the narrow hole in the ceiling. Saria followed her.

Link was left in the dark.

Had he more options, he would have considered them.

He had none.

Link followed Zelda through the hole, removing himself from the tunnel with arms of sinewy darkness.

They had emerged within the ruined foundation of a circular stone tower, decrepit and unstable.

"The remains of the second Hyrule Castle," said Zelda without being asked, withdrawing her golden pocket-watch in order to check the time. "Building the new on the foundations of the old. There's irony hidden somewhere in there, I'm sure."

She looked to her left, where a fragile looking staircase ran up the wall, leading up a deep spiral to the ceiling, where the tower-actual waited for them.

"Don't trip, Hero," said Zelda as she took the steps two at a time, never faltering in her steps.

Link was not so quick to follow. Each step was perilous—and separated by a gap of several inches, creating a hazard for the unwary foot. Even as Saria dashed away after Zelda, taking the steps with much the same grace as her mistress, Link remained careful in his strides.

Bu Zelda—she stepped with enthusiasm. She stepped with eagerness; with a bounce in her stride befitting of one who had just returned home.

When she reached the ceiling, she eased herself up against the final stone panel that separated them from all that was thought dead ages past. Zelda pressed her fingers against the rough of the stone—and savored it. A brief intermission before the grand finale.

She pushed and slid the panel aside.

It was a reckless thing to do.

A stupid thing.

She did so anyway.

Torchlight.

It was no more than anything else had been—no more remarkable. Zelda hesitated a moment, as though expecting more from her return, before hefting herself up and over. Saria followed, as did the Hero soon after.

The room was square and the floor was smooth.

"Marble," Zelda said to no one.

Around them, lighting was minimal. Circular stone walls crafted of material matching that of the floor stretched up above them, leading to another floor. A staircase ran up the inside of the tower—narrower than the first, but protected by guardrails. Alongside it were pictures of men and women both young and old.

The Harkinian line.

"Mistress," said Saria, at last eliciting sound from silence. "The Tower of Lore—"

"I know," said Zelda.

Saria's words fell away.

"The Master Sword's here?" the Hero said.

"No," said Zelda. "_Power_. Think, Hero. The word is synonymous with everything that Ganon is."

A pause.

"Oh," said Link.

Saria did not share his crestfallen tone. Unloosing her hair from its bun, she looked to the floor above, where stairs and pictures continued simultaneously until both disappeared into the section above. "Mistress, your portrait—"

"Still there, I imagine," said Zelda, staring ahead to the connecting tunnel that linked the Tower of Lore to the keep of Hylium Castle. "Even when I turned treasonous, Ganon would never have the heart to remove it."

"Why not?" said Link.

The electric tingle of the Hero's glare straightened the hairs on the back of Zelda's neck. Even so, she smiled. "Ganon's Legion has controlled Hylium for three decades. Close as I am to that mark, I am merely twenty-eight." Zelda reached into her pocket and withdrew her golden pocket-watch. "Piece it together."

When the Hero remained silent, Zelda replaced the watch in her pocket and continued forward to the arched entryway on the opposite tide of the tower's bottom floor, an entryway leading through a darkened stone passageway to Hylium Castle's keep.

"Mistress—it's in the throne room, isn't it?" said Saria.

Zelda smiled and nodded. "I believe so. Ganon will be watching over it."

"But how will we fight him if we cannot get to the sword, mistress?"

"We'll figure something out."

"Will he recognize you, mistress?" Saria shrank into herself, finding the last few words difficult to voice. "You are his daughter—but you ran away."

The smile on Zelda's face turned to something pensive and nostalgic. "He will, but it will not protect us. That which binds fathers and daughters is so easily broken."

At that, Link narrowed his eyes.

Zelda's smile was again coy. She wordlessly stepped through the archway, her companions in tow.

In the back of her mind, she took notice of the lack of life. No servant, no guard, not even the soundless scratching of a spider scurrying across the stone of the ceiling. She quietly acknowledged the risks that accompanied such silence, but did not voice them to the others.

They continued for a ways silence before finally reaching the keep.

It was an octagonal fortress five stories tall with towers built off each point. Each floor lined the outside of the first, leaving the middle open to onlookers from all five. The chamber itself was illuminated by an elaborate chandelier dangling from the ceiling, swaying as though caught in some invisible breeze.

Zelda's steps slowed, but never did she veer from her intended target, a smooth marble throne matching the craftsmanship of the Tower of Lore.

Upon that throne was Ganondorf, resting a sword with a blue hilt and a scabbard of gold across his lap.


	11. 11

Ganondorf rose, towering above them all.

He was older than the Prince of Darkness that Link remembered. From the dark future, the Hero recalled a brash young tyrant unable to contain Power even when he at last possessed it. This man before them displayed no such youthful faults. The grey hair on his head showed signs of having once been a vivid red. His skin was the color of charcoal, a complexion that his armor matched.

Glowing runes of the old Hylian language covered Ganondorf's armor, so much so that a golden aura resonated from him.

He did not step beyond the foot of his throne, instead gazing down upon them with an expression even Zelda could not read. When at last he opened his mouth—throwing his head back—it was to laugh. Slow and deep, laced with a calm arrogance and seasoned with the roar of a monster lying dormant deep inside Ganondorf's heart.

"I have longed for this day," he said, slipping back into coy neutrality. "The cycle can never end."

The three companions stood in defiance, but it was Link who stepped forward to lead. Memories of a destructive battle with a bestial King of Darkness flickered across his thoughts, filling him with a surge of energy that made him forget that it was no longer his own body that he inhabited.

Ganondorf tilted his head, perturbed. Eyes of solid white turned to gaze upon the Hero of Time.

"But you—"The blade with the blue hilt shifted in Ganondorf's hands, nothing more than a twig beneath his fingers. "—you are not the one I wait for. The ghost—the _shade_—you are the same. Your time is passed!"

Ganondorf slammed the tip of the blade against the ground. The resulting echo reverberated through the hall.

He threw back his head and screamed to the heavens.

"_I want the _Hero!

"_I WANT THE HERO_!_"_

He slammed the tip of the blade against the ground.

"_GIVE HIM TO ME_!"

At once, Ganondorf's left hand began to tremble. A tumultuous golden light appeared from the back his palm, bright enough that it seemed for a moment the sun had entered the keep with them.

The light faded, as did Ganondorf's rage. He was again neutral, standing before them with the blade with the blue hilt held against the ground with his right hand. "You are affront to this game; an onlooker who thinks himself a player. I know of you, Hero of Time—and I know that your days are long past. You have no power in my domain."

At last, his gaze turned to Zelda—and with it, Ganondorf grew ambivalent, allowing indecision to slip about his features.

"Father," Zelda said without emotion.

Ganondorf said nothing. The white of his eyes stared into her—one who appeared to be so very close to his daughter. He considered her for a moment. "You are clever," he said when he had finished appraising her.

He slammed the hilt of the sword against the stone of the floor.

"But no magic can hide you from the Gods."

In only the slightest, most unnoticeable of ways, Zelda's conviction wavered. The middle finger of her left hand began to twitch uncontrollably, a weakness she did not mask.

"My daughter is dead. No matter how bonded you are to her person, Princess Zelda perished." Ganondorf lifted his chin. "And there was only one close enough to perform the deed."

The topic died at that, for Ganondorf's gaze moved to Saria.

"You are of no importance," he said.

The twitching of Zelda's left hand ceased.

Ganondorf wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the blue sword, twisting his mouth into an animalistic smile as he drew the blade from its scabbard. At a glance, it was ordinary. All that marked it as different were the three symmetrical triangles engraved near the blade's pommel.

"It burns through darkness, Hero," Ganondorf said, his hand trembling as the hilt's power chewed through armor and flesh. "What is your current form, if not the very manifestation of that darkness?"

He cast the sword down, where it clattered to a standstill before the companions.

The blade hummed even as it lay still.

"Take it," said Ganondorf, crossing armored arms across his chest. "You came for the blade of evil's bane. I give it to you! Strike me down!"

Link hesitated before bending down to wrap his fingers around the blade's hilt. A burning pain spread throughout his body, forcing him to release the sword. Yet, upon inspection, his hand remained free of injury.

Ganondorf took a single lumbering step toward them.

"The blade of evil's bane," he said.

A second.

"In the hands of the Hero, a thorn in my side."

A third.

"But you are no more than a shadow."

A fourth.

"In the hands of a shadow, it is an impressive looking blade."

A final step.

"Nothing more."

He towered over them, no more than an arm's length away. His shadow consumed all. The world around the companions seemed to slip into darkness.

Link saw it out of the corner of his eye, far too much of his attention drawn to Ganondorf's face—a slender sword of silver light, held at Ganondorf's side. The King of Darkness swung the blade in a horizontal arc. The Hero fell backwards to avoid it.

Zelda's reaction was much the same, pulling Saria to the floor before pulling her to the sidelines.

Ganondorf rested the sword at his side again and grinned.

Link scrambled to his feet, pushing to the back of his mind the unnatural sensation of not needing to breathe. In another time, it would have been different. The battle would have begun differently—with a clash, or a confrontation on equal footing.

He was granted no such reprieve this day.

Link's eyes lingered on the Master Sword. Ganondorf made no move to retrieve it, so it lay where it had fallen at the titan's feet.

He saw Zelda draw something from her coat—a pair of weapons similar in design to the one she'd threatened Shad with.

Ganondorf's attention fell upon the Hero's companions.

Zelda fired the both pistols one after the other. Both found marks in Ganondorf's skull.

Both did nothing to stop him.

She tossed the weapons aside and retreated down one of the keep's connecting hallways, all the time holding Saria by the hand.

Link made a dash for the Master Sword. Though it burned his flesh to hold it, he did so anyway. He clenched his jaw shut and strode toward Ganondorf, unable to completely steady his shaking arms as he fought against a defense set in place by the Sages of old.

He felt like himself again.

Ganondorf, a walking fortress of metal and runes, once again turned his attention to the Hero of Time. The tip of his silvery sword dragged on the floor behind him, whining as it cut a thin line through across the surface of the glistening floor.

The King of Evil charged, swinging his blade in a vertical arc.

Link brought the Master Sword up to block.

The impact shook his body to its core. Even as a shadow, he felt every bone in his body crack and every muscle heave ragged breaths. But held his own, never allowing himself to lose focus.

Link lashed out, even as his body protested.

The blade bounced harmlessly from Ganondorf's armor.

The King of Evil's smile—a horrible thing that turned Link cold—grew.

An armored fist crashed against Link's face. Again, every nonexistent bone cracked, every muscle cried out. The Master Sword fell from his hands as he was sent across the room, landing neck first against the stone.

The world dimmed.

He tried to gather the strength to stand.

An armored boot came down upon his chest.

"As I said, Hero of Time," came Ganondorf's voice, "you are nothing more than a shadow."

The weight of the foot disappeared.

Link awaited death.

Titanic steps away—echoes from somewhere further away. Ganondorf's presence disappeared. Link remained alive, bedraggled and deadened. Somewhere deep within himself, he found the strength to move. He turned over, holding himself up by his left arm.

Ganondorf was gone from the room.

Link pushed himself to his feet, stumbling only once before his body developed the strength to support himself.

Saria.

He repeated the name as he righted himself.

Saria.

He retrieved the sword, no longer weakened by its burn.

Saria.

He did not imagine the face of Zelda's companion, but rather the face of his friend. His vision of one overrode the other. It hurried him. The strength of one man became the strength of ten. With the Master Sword in hand, he pursued Ganondorf. Through a small archway, then a tunnel not unlike the one that led from the Tower of Lore.

He found the King of Evil's hulking form faced away from him, traveling with slow, heavy steps.

Through the small areas that Ganondorf did not dominate, Link saw Zelda. In her hands were those weapons—pistols, he recalled—their ends trained on Ganondorf.

He saw Saria.

Mustering his strength, Link charged forward, bringing the Master Sword up only at the last moment. He steered it toward a joint in Ganondorf's armor—the only weakness he could conceive.

Metal met metal.

And then Link heard it: a horrible, horrible crack.

The blade of the Master Sword snapped, sent flying to Link's left, where it clattered against the wall and fell against the stone floor.

Ganondorf's armor was unmarred.

The King of Evil turned to face him—or perhaps he had been doing so the entire time. Link's mind could not focus enough to decide. The Hero's gaze fell downward, finding the silvery sword impaled through his chest.

Unable to muster even a word of surprise, the Hero collapsed.

Ganondorf did not watch the Hero as he fell. As soon as his blade was dislodged, he spun about and faced the others. Two more shots found their way to Ganondorf's forehead. Two more shots were consumed and replaced with clean flesh a moment later.

In spite of it all, Zelda's head remained level.

It might have been the adrenaline coursing through her blood, pushing her to greater levels of insanity. It might have been the girl behind her, green haired and far too young to die.

But no matter the cause, she held her ground.

Ganondorf's steps were deliberate—paced. With no escape in sight, he turned each step into a slow, ominous march. At his side, the silver sword as long as Zelda was tall dragged, leaving a clean cut trail in its wake. On the King of Evil's face was a malicious grin, a twisted concoction of insanity and glee.

Zelda tossed the guns away and sprinted in the opposite direction, pulling Saria along at such speed that the girl struggled to keep up.

"Mistress!" Saria said at some point.

Ganondorf cackled behind them.

"Mistress!" the girl said again.

They continued to run. Through disused passages and towering hallways, they ran, all the time followed by the evil of Ganondorf's laugh and the grinding of his sword against stone.

They stopped, sliding up against the edge of the present hallway to allow for a moment's rest. Saria was frantic, her eyes searching for something to save them. Zelda was collected, her gaze ever analytical. Across from them hung a portrait of the King of Evil, painted in the same manner as all other rulers and politicians—inaccurately flattering.

"The Hero—" said Saria in between breaths.

"I know." Zelda peeled back the sleeve that had fallen over the back of her left hand.

Blank.

She grimaced and let the clothing fall back into place.

Saria's body shook uncontrollably. "But he's—"

"Incapacitated. The shadow survived millennia of violence and starvation. It will live to fight another day."

"But—"

"_Saria_!" She placed a hand on girl's head to hold her still. "We. Will. Live. I did not come all this way to throw a corpse at my father's feet! Now _calm yourself_!"

After many heavy breaths, Saria did. The trembling ceased and the rate at which Saria drew in breath slowed. She steadied herself against the wall before finally nodding to Zelda.

"Good." Zelda withdrew her hand. "We need the Master Sword back."

"But Ganondorf destroyed it!"

Zelda smiled. "Magic can never be destroyed, only altered. If any part of the sword still exists, then it still contains the power to repel evil."

"But without the Hero—"

"Think of it as a challenge."

Zelda's smile faded.

"But I now need you to go."

"M—"

"_No debates_! Ganondorf will target you if you remain with me." Something slipped from Zelda's sleeve into her hand—a small, red diamond with marking of an unfamiliar language inscribed on each side. She pressed the diamond into Saria's hand; a hand that Zelda continued to hold even after the transfer was completed.

"You will take this and run as fast as you can. Go to the Tower of Lore and stay there. The protective enchantments should still be active." She tightened her hold on Saria's hand. "If my father finds you, use the spell. Throw it against the ground—and keep running. It will slow him down, but it won't stop him."

Saria hesitated, her expression conflicted.

"Mistress…"

Zelda did not interrupt, allowing the objection to fall away on its own. At last, Saria ran, disappearing into the endless maze of halls and rooms. For the first time in a great long while, Zelda was along again.

Her thumped inside her chest—a thump Saria's departure finally allowed her to hear.

Ganondorf's thunderous footsteps echoed down teach hall, shaking the castle to its foundations.

With slow, deliberate steps, she sought him out. She wound down endless hallways of art and stone, hallways where lanterns hung and darkness ebbed. She passed many rooms—many empty memories. Her thoughts drifted again to the emptiness, to all the people who did not seem to exist.

And then Ganondorf.

She found him waiting farther along the wing, beneath a silver chandelier hoisted from an elevated ceiling, the tip of his sword resting before his feet and the handle stretching up to meet his chest. Armored hands wrapped around the pommel, blackened armor reflecting light in Zelda's eyes.

"Father," she said as she stopped in the doorway.

Ganondorf smirked, drawing the silvery blade back to his side. "You _are _exceptional. My daughter was wise to keep you on."

He slammed the tip of his blade into the floor to his left where it imbedded itself in the stone, freeing his hands and allowing them to fall back to his sides.

"But I know of the power you use to mask yourself—primitive shadow magic." Ganondorf lifted his left arm, revealing to Zelda the back of his palm. Three golden equilateral triangles glowed, one more so than the others. "Not Sheikah—I saw to their extermination."

He paused.

"Twili—but your mirror was shattered. Return to the world of Light should have been impossible." Ganondorf smiled with genuine affection, an expression that made his visage all the more terrifying. "But you—are so much like my daughter. You found a way back."

Zelda was silent.

"I might have enjoyed you in court. You would have made an excellent advisor." Ganondorf's hands curled into fists. "But you took my daughter from me—and for that, you will suffer."

He keeled over, letting the silvery sword clatter to the floor beside him. Bearing himself up on all fours, he lifted his head and leered at Zelda, his features devoid of humanity. Shadow engulfed his body, molding and twisting until it resembled something bestial—and then it began to grow. A massive upper torso faceted with trunk-like muscular arms replaced Ganondorf's upper body. Smaller hind legs sprouted from his rear, propping him up fully from the floor.

Zelda did not wait to see what came next. She sprinted past, making for the hall directly behind Ganondorf before his metamorphosis could complete.

The stone floor beneath her feet trembled; from behind, thunderous footfalls rapid enough to outpace her.

She did not look back.

Zelda retraced her steps. She passed portraits—rulers, landscapes, self-indulgences. Bedrooms, servants' quarters. The rugs she treaded upon all bore matching tints of red and patterns of curled white flowers.

Rooms.

Portraits.

An endless repetition of memories.

Ganondorf's steps roared from somewhere not far behind.

Zelda found the fallen Hero, unmoving on the floor of a hallway that was unremarkable, save for his presence. The shadow of his form flickered between the colored body of a Hylian and the dark sinew of shadow. The flesh bore a tunic of darkened green, while the shadow a parallel silhouette of black.

The sword remained in the shadow's hand, the uppermost part of the blade snapped crudely in half. The upper half leaned against the stone wall at an angle.

Both halves of the sword continued to glow.

Zelda knelt beside the Hero and took his end of the blade by its pommel.

The Hero's grip around it tightened.

Zelda pulled the remains of the sword from his hand. She stood upright and twisted around, spreading her legs and centering the broken blade before her. The blade brought with it a sense of great power, even in its incomplete state.

Something in the air changed.

Ganondorf's footfalls no longer echoed throughout the castle. Zelda could not hear him, even in passing.

Zelda's heart stopped. Her mind sought the only possible conclusion.

She broke into a run, returning from whence she came. Her steps no longer entertained any form of calm. Her sprint contained panic, an emotion she'd experienced only once before. For if Ganon no longer pursued her, then his attentions could be turned to only one other target.


	12. 12

Zelda was no longer calm.

She ignored the increasing fatigue in her legs and the hunger in her belly that suddenly seemed so evident. With each footfall, she thought only for that which she had left behind, trusting naively that the King of Darkness would choose the path of most resistance and leave behind a girl of the forest.

Zelda's steps were light, but no longer graceful.

She passed familiar rooms and familiar faces hanging on familiar walls—the same path retraced a second time. Zelda followed the silence, seeking out the empty cold of the air Ganon's bestial form drove him through.

All the while Zelda clutched the blade of evil's bane.

Quick intakes of breath.

She searched her mind for a place to think.

[Saria]

Moving about familiar halls. Familiar rooms, familiar faces.

[Saria]

Time crept. Each moment tore at her thoughts.

[Saria]

Palm slickened by sweat pressed against the leather wrapping of the Master Sword's hilt.

[Saria]

Zelda paused at a junction in the hallway. Something glimmered out of the corner of her eye—a stain upon the stone of the wall. She ran her finger across, bringing back to her face a light coating of red interspersed with flecks of dirt and stone.

She brought the finger to her mouth and suckled on the liquid.

Blood—Saria's.

Without question. It tasted of the forest.

Zelda placed her hand on the stain. Small. Pebble sized. Gradually running down surface while bein simultaneously absorbed by the stone.

Fresh.

Head injury.

Zelda stood and tasted the air. The emptiness continued. Blood did not follow. The bleeding couldn't be strong. Hair could soak up blood and help to clot.

[Saria]

Zelda moved, no longer paying attention to her surroundings; no longer paying attention to anything. Air flowed around her. A single thought ran through her mind—a single name. She whispered it to herself over and over and over and over and over and over.

[Saria]

No screams.

Saria wasn't screaming.

[Saria]

It pushed Zelda. Legs worked as they never had. There was no pain or fatigue or exhaustion. All she knew was insanity, something terrible and grave and impossible. Every emotion inside her was contained within the core of a girl.

[Saria]

Familiar faces.

[Saria]

Empty hallways.

[Saria]

Scratching of claws against stone.

[Saria]

Zelda rounded a corner and found herself beneath the same silver chandelier, facing the same creature of darkness. Its metamorphosis complete, Ganondorf has become nothing more than a beast. Massive tusks protruded from its diminutive head. A mane of red stretched across the dark flesh of its back. Disproportionately large frontal legs carried the beast.

In one, it held Saria.

[Saria]

Zelda saw hazel eyes struggle to stay open. Long, green hair matted with blood.

[Saria]

Ganon's animalistic face contorted into rage. He let slip Saria from his hand. The girl fell to the floor in a heap.

Saria did not move.

[Saria]

The bestial Ganon walked a half circle around Zelda. She saw Ganondorf in its eyes—cool and calculating. She saw all that was she—all that she had become. Hollow eyes of white blinked and spoke to her without words.

Zelda widened her stance and readied her broken blade.

The bestial Ganon paused.

The sword shook in Zelda's hands.

[Saria]

Ganon lunged, propelling itself forward with powerful frontal legs. The shadow passed over Saria—

[Saria]

—cutting through the air with a hiss as the mark of Power manifested on the back of its left fore-palm. Three golden, equilateral triangles. The light of the three began to envelope everything. Zelda could see only a shadow of Ganon charging leaping through the air.

She brought the sword up to halt the inevitable.

[Saria]

She waited.

And waited.

No impact.

[Saria]

…and Zelda her a voice whisper in her ear, one that was finally able to calm her weary thoughts. It was a voice of unparalleled grace, neither male nor female. It reached down to Zelda and comforted her, wrapping her thoughts in a bundle of harmony.

And through the majesty, Zelda heard a single word spoken over and over.

A single word:

"Courage."

Only when it seemed so many times repeated did its meaning finally ingrain in Zelda's thoughts. Only then did she truly understand.

The golden light faded.

In her hands, Zelda held not a broken blade, but a weapon. She held something whole—a blade of evil's bane. The Master Sword's blade cut a swath through the darkness. In naught but a single moment, she comprehended. She found herself moments before where fate had deemed fit to leave her: In the path of an angry god, twisted by his machinations.

But she held the _Master Sword_.

Zelda moved in a manner alien to her. She sidestepped the Ganon as though it were a practiced routine, slipping out of the way as he landed, claws scraping across the stone of the floor.

The sword of evil's bane glowed rightly in the darkness.

Ganon bellowed evil and malice, turning his empty eyes to her once again. Massive forepaws lashed out. Each came within inches of Zelda's flesh.

The air hissed.

Zelda moved with agility alien even to her. Casual steps put her out of Ganon's reach whenever the end seemed imminent. It was a dance of fates—and Zelda did not falter. Her thoughts remained steady and her movements swift.

At last, she lashed out.

The Master Sword met darkened, bestial flesh, leaving a glowing white gash across Ganon's left forearm that he did not shrug off as easily as he had the shot. Together, they danced a dance of death.

[Saria]

Zelda's thoughts moved to the unconscious Saria, who'd not moved from where she'd fallen.

She thought of the blood on Saria's head.

Her dance of death turned to rage.

[Saria]

Anger turned to focus.

Ganon came at her again, propelling himself across the ground on all fours.

Zelda's movement was simple. She pointed the Master Sword straight and true—and held steady it as the beast's head threw itself onto the blade. Immeasurable strength welled up from within. Though met with one physically stronger in every conceivable way, Zelda held the line.

She was pushed back. Hardened leather boots scraped backwards against the stone floor.

But Zelda held her ground.

She braced herself against Ganon with impossible strength. The muscle of her arm tautened and pushed with power that defied logic. Not once did she falter—and neither did the Master. And when Ganon's strength faded and all energy behind his movements died, Zelda remained untouched.

Zelda drew the blade from Ganon's head as he collapsed. With it came no blood, but a golden light, shining from the clean cut straight back through Ganon's head. The King of Darkness slumped over. His life slipped away without words of revenge.

Zelda savored the bitter taste of conquest for only a moment.

[Saria]

She was at Saria's side before her mind could command her to do so. She abandoned the Master Sword.

The girl's hair was caked with blood, darkening the shade of her once bright green hair.

Zelda eased Saria onto her back. The girl's eyes were open, but unfocused.

"Mistress?" Saria said, her words slurred.

Zelda checked the girl's eyes. Pupils equal in size.

"Mistress?" Saria said again.

Zelda placed a hand around the Saria's head, carefully running her index finger across the injured area. "Rate the pain. Scale of one to ten."

"Mistress, I…" Saria's words drifted off, as did her consciousness. Her eyelids flickered shut, struggling more each second to stay open. "Mistress—"

"Saria. One to ten."

The girl inhaled. "…six… six…"

Her eyes began to close again.

"Saria!"

The girl's eyes flew open. "Six! Six—mistress?"

"Saria, you have a concussion. I need you to stay awake. Do _not _fall asleep." Zelda slipped her other arm beneath Saria's legs and lifted. The girl felt small and weightless in her hands. A mass of green hair fell against the black of Zelda's shirt. The sensation of foreign blood seeping through the material of her clothing sent tingles up her arms.

They moved along the silence of Hylium Castle. Zelda felt for the first time how empty it was. Life replaced by the perpetual silence. Each step she took echoed throughout the endless stone corridors.

She left the Master Sword behind without a second thought.

She left Ganon behind.

She left the Hero behind.

The mark of Courage glowed brightly upon Zelda's left hand.


End file.
